


Forest Falls

by bluevalentine69



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anorexia, Anxiety Disorder, Blood Drinking, Blood Lust, Blow Jobs, Bottom Merlin (Merlin), Bulimia, Dom/sub Undertones, Eating Disorders, Fate & Destiny, Feeding, Feeding Kink, First Time, Hand Jobs, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Bites, Poor Merlin (Merlin), Rimming, Soulmates, Top Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Top Arthur Pendragon/Bottom Merlin (Merlin), Twilight References, Vampire Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Vampires, Vulnerable Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22281229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluevalentine69/pseuds/bluevalentine69
Summary: 16-year-old Merlin Emerson is moving to live with his dad. The anxiety of modern city life has triggered an eating disorder, and his parents hope that a change of scene, to a quiet, remote forest community, will give him the space he needs to recover.On his first day at his new high school, Merlin finds himself involuntarily drawn towards a handsome golden-haired stranger, Arthur Pendragon. For reasons he can’t begin to understand, Arthur seems fascinated by him too.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 566





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin lets his head rest against the glass of his dad’s rusty pick-up truck as they cross the steel bridge between the city and the wild country beyond. He watches as the horizon changes; black forests bordering blue mountains capped in mist, shrouded in heavy grey sky, rugged, rocky country spooling with dark lakes. His dad clears his throat and looks over at him.

“Been a while since you’ve been back,” he comments neutrally, returning his attention to the road. Merlin nods silently. He’d been four when his parents got divorced, moving with his mother to live on the other side of the country. His father’s taken him on a holiday once a year in the twelve years since then, to the same damp beach cabin on an abandoned coast halfway between their two homes. They barely know each other.

“You look like you’ve gained a little weight,” his father says conversationally. “Healthier.” Merlin scratches his forefinger with his thumb nail, watching the skin redden.

“I’ve lost six pounds since last time,” he murmurs, drawing down the arms of his sweater over his cold fingers. He knows it’s not good; he’s got nothing to lose. All skin and bones his mum says. His dad glances sideways. 

“Your mum says you’re doing better though. Having a fresh start will be good for you.” Merlin smiles numbly.

“I know. Thanks for having me dad.” Balinor waves away his thanks.

“Couldn’t wait to have you back, son,” he says gruffly, patting Merlin on the leg.

Merlin blinks at his pale reflection as they turn off the highway on to the single road track that will lead them through the forests until they reach Dell, the small mountain town where he was born.

His mum and dad met at university in the nearest city of Avalon and married young, moving back to his dad’s native Dell when they graduated. His dad joined the local constabulary; his mum painted and fell pregnant. When Merlin was four she decided she couldn’t stand small town living anymore and left her husband, setting up home as many miles away as possible in the fashionable, arty city of Ives. Merlin grew up with a wacky mum constantly seeing different men - artists, poets, academics - in a world full of beautiful, rich, competitive people. His anxiety had started young. It got worse with puberty, when he realised he was gay. Then the outright bullying started. The quiet, nerdy, skinny kid with no money and no dad and paint on his clothes was a sexual deviant too. Developing an eating disorder seemed to fit the natural progression of his life.

After two years of hospital visits and therapy his mum had finally decided that Ives wasn’t good for him, that he needed somewhere quieter, more remote, less stressful, and suggested he move back to live with his dad. She’d also recently got engaged again - a musician called Diago - and Merlin knew she was worried about how he might respond to living with a new man. So here he is, at the start of September, arriving in Dell before the new school term starts. He closes his eyes and listens to the patter of rain begin to drum against the roof of the truck. It’s always grey and rainy and cold in Dell.

Twilight had fallen by the time they’d passed through the centre of town and arrived at Balinor’s house; a small, picturesque wooden cabin surrounded by forest. Lights flickered from inside.

“Gaius is here,” his dad says, fixing the handbrake and turning off the engine. “Wanted to welcome you home.”

“That was nice of him,” Merlin replies, getting out of the car and making his way round to the back to get his cases.

“Go on in and say hello, I’ll do these.” Merlin nods his thanks and stumbles, tripping his way up the pebbled drive and porch steps, tentatively turning the front door handle. An old man with white hair and a beaming smile throws open the door and pulls Merlin into a hug.

“Merlin, my boy! Welcome home, welcome home! I’ve made sausage casserole, your favourite!” Merlin doesn’t tell him he’s been a vegetarian since he was seven.

“Hi Uncle Gaius,” he grins, embracing his dad’s older brother, and the town’s doctor. “Nice to see you again.”

“Talk of the town, your return,” Gaius gushes, ushering him in. “Everyone’s excited to see you again.” _Great_ , Merlin thinks. Just what he likes. People noticing him.

“Take a look around, familiarise yourself with the house, take a comfort break, eh? Long drive from the airport. Three hours, was it?” Merlin shakes his head.

“Nearly four. Rush hour traffic.”

“My, you must be exhausted. I’ll put the kettle on for tea.” He bustles into the kitchen and leaves Merlin standing in the hall with a major case of déjà vu. He walks in and out of downstairs rooms, the hall, sitting room, kitchen, study, all wooden walled and floored, lined with bookcases and rugs, fires roaring in both the two downstairs wood burners. It’s cosy and smells like pine and smoke and earth. Home. He makes his way up the stairs towards the first floor; his father’s room and a bathroom, and up the narrower stairs to the attic, where his room is nestled between the eaves. He stops in the doorway and looks at the long, narrow space. Full length windows at each end look out into the dark forests, making him feel like he’s in a treehouse. Fairy lights are twisted along the beams in the sloping ceiling, a narrow single bed made up with dark blue covers tucked beneath. A wooden chest with a mirror and a lamp and his old teddy bear sit at one end of it, and a small desk with a wicker chair and compact desk light sits at the other end.

“Bought those in for you,” his dad says, coming up behind him and nodding at the new furniture as he lines up Merlin’s cases against the free wall. “Thought you’d need somewhere quiet to do your schoolwork. I’ve got an old computer too, downstairs, which I’ll bring up for you, if you like. Your mum said you had a laptop, but I thought you might need a bigger screen.” Merlin hears the uncertainty in his father’s voice and turns to give his dad an awkward hug.

“That’s really thoughtful dad, thanks. My room looks great.” Balinor smiles, relieved.

“Gaius did the lights,” he gestures vaguely. “Well, I’ll leave you to unpack, settle in a bit. We’re eating in half an hour or so, if that’s okay?” Merlin nods and shuffles as Balinor ruffles his hair and leaves. He moves quietly to stand against one window, looking out at the darkening woods. Deer have ventured out to eat; owls and nighttime birds of prey are hooting and calling to each other, beginning their daily hunt. It’s peaceful. Merlin feels more connected here than he ever did to the glittering glass skyscrapers and manicured botanical gardens of Ives. The dark suits him better.

*

Supper is difficult. Merlin manages one sausage _(150 calories)_ , a herb dumpling ( _96 calories_ ), and a portion of cheesy mash potato _(235 calories)_ before his stomach tightens and he feels sickness wash through him, sweat beading at his hairline. He hasn’t eaten all day, in expectation of some kind of mandatory welcome home meal, so he can afford the calories. But the richness of the food doesn’t sit well with him. Last time he was admitted to the clinic they helped him put on weight with plain pasta and dry toast and scrambled eggs and butter and lots of fruit juice and protein milkshakes.

“You’ve barely eaten,” Balinor says, ignoring a head shake from Gaius.

“I get full quickly,” Merlin explains. “And I’m used to simple foods. It helps me stomach eating.” He carefully puts his knife and fork together and smiles at Gaius. “It was delicious though, thank you.” Gaius grips his shoulder affectionately.

“Have an extra pancake for pudding instead.” Merlin’s stomach drops. Sugar is one of his triggers. He feels so guilty eating ‘treat’ food that he normally throws up afterwards. He thought his mum had briefed them. Perhaps Gaius senses Merlin’s panic. “They’ll keep for a few days,” he says affably, spooning himself some more mash.

After helping with the washing up, Merlin sits and plays cards with Gaius and Balinor in front of the fire, pulling the woollen tartan rug from the sofa across his shoulders, warm, content sleepiness seeping into his bones.

“Feels like being home,” he comments as they finish the round, sipping peppermint tea to settle his nausea. Balinor’s eyes look suspiciously moist as he clears his throat.

“Always has been,” he says, picking up the cards to shuffle the deck.

“What would you like to do this weekend?” Gaius asks. “You’ve got a couple of days to settle in before school starts on Monday.” Merlin shrugs.

“I guess I’ll go into town and get my books for the term, get ahead with some reading.” Balinor nods.

“I’m on duty tomorrow, but we could head up to the lakes on Sunday? Do some fishing?” Merlin remembers the lakes; cold and silver, sandy beaches littered with pine cones and driftwood, wolves howling in the bordering forests, dashing in and out of sight. He shivers involuntarily.

“I remember a cove mum used to take me swimming,” he volunteers, a long-forgotten memory resurfacing.

“Boatman’s Bay,” Balinor nods. “Best place for trout.” He begins counting out hands of cards again. “Think you could manage a fish pie for Sunday supper?” Merlin bites his lip. Best to be honest, he figures. Save future arguments.

“I’m not good with creamy sauces,” he admits. “I could probably eat some grilled fish. With vegetables?” Balinor grins.

“Great idea. Gaius, will you join us?” Gaius shakes his head.

“Alice always does a beef roast on Sundays. I’ll let you two catch up.” Given that they’re both pretty much the silent types, Merlin thinks Gaius is being overly optimistic.

*

The weekend passes in a haze of activity. Merlin wraps up in his duffel coat and walks through the forest paths into town early on Saturday morning, with a list of things to buy for school. He explores the centre with interest. It’s quaint. There’s a grocery store, general store, and a butcher/fishmonger, an old-fashioned bookshop, an Italian restaurant, a milkshake café/whisky bar, and an outdoor clothing and equipment retailer. The town gets a lot of hikers, mountaineers, fishers, and hunters. There’s the local police station, which his dad is in charge of now, and the local doctor’s practice, which Gaius owns. Both serve a few other nearby towns too. Aside from that it’s just the local school and residential buildings, with the odd hostel or bed and breakfast for tourists. He can walk the whole place in fifteen minutes.

Everyone knows each other, so Merlin keeps his head down, managing to avoid making conversation as he purchases file paper and pens and books. Then he goes to the grocery store to get supplies. It’s important that there’s food in the house he feels comfortable eating, or he knows he won’t eat at all. He’d promised his mum to keep to the clinic-prescribed routine of three meals a day. He buys some rice crackers, marmite, apples, oat milk, and tins of tomato soup, along with a loaf of sliced wholemeal bread and a bag of pasta. He adds some different herbal teabags to the mix, and some chocolate for his dad. On a whim he also buys some flowers for his bedroom. They’re just daisies, but he’s always been cheered up by flowers.

He walks home along the river, enjoying the sound of rushing water, hidden animals, crunching leaves and the echoey forest silence. When he gets back he makes a hot water bottle and sits on his grandfather’s rocking chair on the porch, wrapped up against the autumnal wind as he opens the novel his class is studying this term. _Frankenstein_. He’s excited to read a gothic novel. Literature has always been his favourite subject. He makes a simple supper for when his dad gets home from work, tomato spinach pasta with parmesan. He eats his portion without the cheese, but his dad’s only comment is that it’s delicious. They read together in companionable silence in front of the fire, Merlin curling his toes in a pair of his dad’s woolly socks, lulled by the ticking clock on the mantlepiece.

On Sunday they head to Boatman’s Bay, and sit side-by-side fishing on the bank a freezing lake in light, misty rain. Merlin keeps warm with tea, and remembers to eat two rice crackers ( _56 calories_ ) and an apple ( _52 calories_ ) at lunch, when Balinor has a sandwich. Once he’s caught a decent-sized trout he goes for a walk along the beach, shivering as the rain hardens, soaking his jeans to the skin. Balinor is packing up the truck when he gets back, fish in an ice-box, and he has a hot shower when he gets home, coming down in his favourite flannel pyjama bottoms and hooded sweater to help his dad prepare supper. He’s grilling the fish on the porch barbecue, so Merlin goes about making a simple salad and some dressing and roast potatoes for his dad. They eat on trays in front of the TV, watching _Jaws_ , and Merlin says goodnight early, worried about his first day at school.

“I’ll drive you in at 7.30,” Balinor says as he leaves the room. “Don’t want you walking two miles there and back in this weather.”

“Thanks dad,” Merlin says. “See you in the morning.” He falls asleep with a storm battering the eaves above him, fairy lights casting shadows on the wall opposite his bed. In spite of his anxiety, he feels cosier and safer here than he can ever remember feeling before. Sleep comes more quickly than he’d expected.


	2. Chapter 2

Once he’s registered with the school receptionist, Merlin finds his way to homeroom using the helpful campus map she’d given him, printed on the back of an assignment planner bearing the Dell High crest. He slips in early, finding a seat at the back of the class, hoping not to be noticed. No such luck.

“Hey! You must be Merlin Emerson? The Chief Constable’s son? We heard you’d be starting today.” Merlin looks up at a smiling, freckled boy with a mess of light brown hair. “I’m Will,” he says, sticking out a hand. “My old man owns the general store here?”

“Atkinson’s,” Merlin nods, remembering his visit on Saturday. “Nice to meet you.” He shakes Will’s hand and is astonished when Will sits at the desk next to him.

“It’s the new boy!” Will shouts as people enter the room, and Merlin is introduced to Will’s girlfriend, Freya, and her best friend Gwen, and her boyfriend Lance. They’ve all grown up together.

“We used to play in the sandpit together in nursery,” Lance informs Merlin with a grin, curling an arm around Gwen. “I’ve got pictures of you with a bucket on your head in our family album!” Merlin’s surprised. He has no memory of anyone here at all.

“Sounds embarrassing,” Merlin smiles awkwardly.

“So how comes you moved here from _Ives_?” Freya asks, nose wrinkled. “Nothing ever happens here! You have to drive an hour into Avalon just to go to the cinema!”

“I wanted to spend a bit more time with dad before college, I guess,” Merlin says evasively. Fortunately everyone nods as if that’s the expected answer.

“Well, you’ll feel at home here in no time. We go to The Milk Shack every day after school, and we hang out at Lance’s house on Friday evening to watch movies and eat pizza. His dad is your dad’s Deputy, so your dad will be cool with you joining us. Sometimes we go into Avalon on Saturday, but the bus is shit on Sundays and none of us drives yet, so we tend to hang out at Coyote Creek for the day. People go paddle-boarding and canoeing and stuff. There’s a lodge there - Sammy’s - that does a mean cheese toastie when you’re cold and hungry. We’re a pretty social bunch.” Merlin smiles, feeling a bit overwhelmed. It’s nice to be included, but daily socialising is kind of his worst nightmare. He likes going home and reading.

His lessons are fine. The teachers are nice and he seems ahead of their syllabus, which is a relief. He’s always been a straight A student and had been worried about how transferring might affect his grades in his final two years of senior school. He’d worried about how to manage the lunchtime canteen, but in the end it’s fine. He gets a tray with everyone else and helps himself to some salad ( _12 calories_ ), an apple ( _52 calories_ ) and a carton of orange juice ( _70 calories_ ), and everyone’s so busy devouring their fries and coke and muffins that they don’t really notice him picking at his meal. He zones out of their conversation and looks around the canteen at the other students, carefully taking a bite of apple and nearly choking as his gaze settles on two icy blue eyes staring piercingly at him. He blinks and takes in the face the eyes are attached to, and then the body that the face is attached to. He’s looking at the most shockingly beautiful man he’s ever seen before in his life. Messy blond hair, a chiselled jawline, straight nose, a perfect cherry pout, and a broad, finely muscled body more suited to a Hollywood film star than a schoolboy. The boy quirks his head at him questioningly, leaning back in his chair and toying with his pasta, looking at Merlin with a dark, burning intensity. Merlin blushes and tries to swallow, hurriedly drinking some juice as he looks away.

“Y’alright there buddy?” Will asks, slapping him on the back. Merlin nods, eyes down, and purposefully forks a piece of cucumber.

“Who’s the guy in the corner?” he asks, nodding vaguely in the blond boy’s direction. Will peers over his shoulder and frowns.

“Arthur fucking _Pendragon_ ,” he grimaces. “Transferred here last year. Far too high and mighty to socialise with the likes of _us_ ,” he sniffs sourly.

“Will’s a bit jealous because Freya mooned over him for a while,” Lance whispers loudly.

“Oh yeah? Well so did Gwen!” Will shoots back. Gwen holds up her hands.

“Fortunately for the pair of you, he’s never expressed any interest in _dating_ the likes of us either, so you can sedate the green eyed monsters.” Merlin looks around, feeling the skin on the back of his neck prickling. Arthur’s gone.

“His dad’s some businessman billionaire,” Freya says, happily shoving half a burger in her mouth in a way that makes Merlin’s stomach heave. “Apparently they lived in _Italy_ before moving here. His parents inherited the land around Samhain Springs? Legend says it’s cursed, locals won’t go near it. But they built a luxury lakeside condo up there and moved in, opened up Crystal Caves to tourists; that rakes in a fortune. Big movie producers use it as a filming location.” She chews and swallows quickly, stuffing in another oversized mouthful. “Anyway, Arthur barely speaks to anyone here apart from his cousin, Morgana, who lives with them. Clearly we’re too poor and provincial for His Royal Highness. Can’t deny that he’s pretty though.” Merlin nibbles at his lettuce, mind swirling with sunshine gold and wintry blue.

As luck would have it, Merlin ends up sitting next to Arthur in his next class - art. He’d inherited his mother’s love for painting. They’re told to capture the likeness of a vase of sunflowers arranged next to a silver bowl of pears on a swathe of burgundy velvet. It’s very baroque. He selects a canvas and oils and sets up at an easel to start pencilling an outline before he commits brush to material.

“You’re new here,” a smooth voice says next to him. Not the kind of voice you associate with a teenager. Merlin feels shivers run down his spine, his blood thrilling, and he inwardly curses as he feels his face heat up again. He nods, putting down his pencil and turning around. He nearly stops breathing at the powerful effect Arthur’s close proximity seems to have on him, feeling himself tremble.

“Merlin,” he offers quietly, holding out a hand. Arthur takes it and a jolt of electricity shoots up Merlin’s arm at the contact. His palm is cool.

“Arthur,” Arthur smiles. “I’m sure you’ve heard terrible things about me,” he grins wryly, settling at his own easel.

“Perhaps you’ve given people reason,” Merlin murmurs, trying to focus on his study and not the man sitting next to him.

“Perhaps,” Arthur agrees, confidently sweeping oil across his canvas without preparation, brush strokes bold and masterful. “I’m afraid I’ve just got used to my own company over the years, and I’ve spent rather a lot of time with adults. I find group socialising with high-schoolers a little tiring.” He flicks a quick glance in Merlin’s direction. “I’m sure you know what small towns are like. You refuse to fit the mould, you must be arsehole.” Merlin nods slowly. He shares similar sentiments.

“You’re really gifted,” Merlin comments, nodding at the form taking shape beneath Arthur’s fingers. Arthur looks at his work in surprise, as if he’d forgotten he’d been painting.

“I trained at Florence art school for a while,” he shrugs modestly. “I suppose it’s a hobby of mine. Painting and playing classical music. You like art too?” Merlin doesn’t know why Arthur’s so curious; what he sees in Merlin that makes him want to ask questions where all his classmates failed.

“My mum’s an artist,” he explains. “Oils aren’t really my thing. I like watercolours.” He looks up and Arthur’s staring at him intensely again, making Merlin hot and shivery all at once. “I like reading too. I guess I’m not much of a social butterfly either.”

“Good,” Arthur says decisively, leaning closer to Merlin and whispering conspiratorially, “I guess we can be friends then.” Merlin can’t help the way his heart leaps. They spend the rest of their tutorial concentrating on their task, although Merlin can’t help his gaze frequently straying to Arthur’s, whose smouldering eyes burn Merlin to the core. By the end of their ninety minutes he’s a bundle of nerves. Arthur walks out of the door behind him, turning to hold Merlin’s wrist and leaning in to smell him. Merlin’s heart stutters like a rabbit’s as Arthur inhales at the nape of his neck, body aching in a way he hasn’t experienced before. He’s straining towards Arthur, desperate to reach out and touch him.

“Come over to mine after school on Wednesday?” Arthur offers. “I’ll introduce you to my cousin and parents. We have some caves not far from our house, closed to the public now that the weather’s getting bad. I could take you there?” Merlin nods his assent and Arthur’s gone before he can blink, leaving him to stumble to his maths class in a dreamlike trance.

Merlin has always known he was gay, on some level. When he watched Disney films as a child he always fancied Prince Charming, or Aladdin, or whoever the male hero of the story happened to be. When he hit puberty and everyone at his last school started obsessing over the opposite sex, Merlin realised he had no interest in touching girls. But he’s never _fancied_ a real life human being before. He’s never felt attraction, or lust, or sexual or romantic interest. He’s never had any ‘itch’ to relieve with his own hand. He’d started to wonder if there was something wrong with him, perhaps. Maybe the eating disorder had played with his hormones so much that he was dysfunctional. Asexual. In some ways he was glad. The idea of someone seeing his body was nauseating. But now? Merlin hadn’t imagined that having a crush would be anything like this. His whole body feels on fire and doused in ice and like it's inhaled lungfuls of dizzying hallucinogenic smoke. He knows he has to be careful. Part of his anxiety means that he needs to feel in control, that’s why he has issues with food. If he meets someone who throws that control out of balance? Disastrous. Potentially life-endangering, and that’s no exaggeration. Last time Merlin was at the clinic he saw two people die.

He gets through to the end of the school day in a fog of confusion and attributes his light-headedness to not eating more at lunch. Will grabs him after last period and pulls him along with the group into town, piling into The Milk Shack. Merlin orders himself a banana milkshake ( _386 calories_ ) to make up for skipping breakfast and lunch, and sips it slowly as he’s bombarded with more questions. By the time he gets home, he’s exhausted. Balinor cooks a plain meal of rice ( _181 calories_ ), roast chicken ( _114 calories_ ) and steamed broccoli ( _34 calories_ ), and Merlin tries to eat as much as possible to show his gratitude for the plain meal. After they’ve washed up he excuses himself to do homework, and retreats to his bedroom, carefully piling his assignments on his bedroom floor and sitting against the window to feel close to the forest as he begins to work. After half an hour or so, his phone rings.

“Hi mum,” he says, answering Hunith’s call.

“Darling!” she exclaims, cursing as something clatters in the background. “Blast. Red paint all over the new studio floor,” she explains, huffing and moving around. “Tell me everything. How’s dad? How’s Dell? How’s school?” Merlin fiddles with a biro, looking around his glowing loft bedroom.

“It’s good,” he says, mostly meaning it. “Dad’s been really great helping me get settled, and Dell’s nice. I like being surrounded by nature.”

“That’s great, honey!” his mum enthuses, sounding delighted. “And have you made friends yet?”

“Apparently they remember me playing in a sandpit with a bucket on my head,” Merlin tells her, glad to hear her laugh.

“Oh baby. Small towns have long memories. But it’s good they think of you as one of them.” Merlin nods, before realising that she can’t see him.

“They’ve been very welcoming,” he offers instead.

“I’m so glad sweetie,” she coos. He knows what’s coming next. “And how’s the routine going? Are you managing to stick to your regime?” Merlin doesn’t want to worry her with a _not really_ , so he improvises.

“I’m eating, mum. Dad cooked rice and chicken this evening, and we had fish and salad last night. And I went to a milkshake café after school.”

“Sweetheart, that’s wonderful news!” Merlin hears a man calling his mum. “Darling, Diago’s just got home with Thai takeaway, I’ve got to dash - call me this weekend with an update, okay?” Merlin smiles.

“Okay mum. Say hi to Diago for me.”

“I will baby. Remember I love you, Merlin.”

“I love you too mum,” he says, sighing as she hangs up. He’s suddenly very tired. He strips and climbs into bed, setting his alarm for 5am. He’ll wake up early to do his homework.


	3. Chapter 3

On Wednesday, after school, Merlin waits in the entrance hall for Arthur. He feels a hand against his back propelling him forwards and realises that it’s Arthur steering him outside.

“Hi,” Arthur whispers into his ear as they’re carried along with the exodus of students, pushed closely together by the crowds. Merlin tries not to flush as he sees Will and Lance fooling around by the bike shed, waiting for the girls so they can head into town for milkshakes. Merlin waves slightly at their gobsmacked faces as Arthur manoeuvres him towards a smart racing green Range Rover, opening the door and helping Merlin inside. It smells like citrus and sandalwood, and Merlin melts against the plush seats. Soft piano music begins to play as Arthur turns the engine on; the media control panel displaying _Le Onde, Ludovico Einaudi._ Merlin relaxes, eyes closed, as they drive in silence further up the mountain into denser, darker, more ancient forest, giant redwood trees so tall they block out any natural daylight. Suddenly they drive through an archway carved into the trunk of a redwood, with a sign declaring ‘Samhain Springs’, and emerge on to a plateau rolling down towards a silvery lake.

“Our house is on the east bank, in the forests,” Arthur points out, and Merlin sees glimmering glass and iridescent stone glinting in the woods, “and the caves are on the west bank, under the mountain,” Arthur shows him. “We’ll go there after supper.”

“Supper?” Merlin asks in alarm. “You didn’t say we’d be eating. I don’t want to put your family to any bother.”

“No bother at all,” Arthur says breezily, driving around the lake on a hidden wooded path, “everyone’s really looking forward to meeting you.” Merlin’s jaw drops when he sees Arthur’s house looming above him.

“Wow,” he manages to articulate. Arthur grins and ushers him inside, amused by Merlin’s awe as he takes in glass walls that make the house feel like it’s built on air and water. Everything is cool marble, carved stone, metal sculptures, minimalist, modern sleek; an emporium of architectural accomplishment, a muted palette of white and grey, complementing the natural landscape visible in every direction; metallic silver-black water, green-brown forest, ochre earth. “No wonder you enjoy spending so much time at home,” he murmurs. Arthur laughs as he takes his hand and leads him up a staircase into an expansive chrome studio kitchen, potted trees creating a soothing dining area, crystal vases stuffed with creamy white roses decorating table, sideboard, and island surfaces. Merlin sees a beautiful blonde woman, just like Arthur, carefully preparing food and a handsome man, just like Arthur, mixing drinks.

“Merlin!” the woman exclaims when she sees him. “We’re so pleased to meet one of Arthur’s friends,” she smiles, hurrying over and embracing him. She smells like lilies and orange blossom.

“Thank you so much for having me, Mrs Pendragon,” Merlin smiles, hugging her back.

“Ygraine,” she insists.

“Uther,” Arthur’s father says, beaming at Merlin and holding out his hand, heartily pumping Merlin’s when it’s offered in return. “It’s a pleasure to meet Balinor’s son.”

“You know my father?” Merlin asks, surprised.

“We’ve had a few issues with trespassers,” Uther replies nonchalantly, “young adventurers keen to test whether the land’s really cursed, I imagine. Your father has been very helpful in reinforcing our security.” Merlin nods.

“I’m glad he could help you,” he says, and means it.

“Come young man, taste my new cocktail recipe.” He hands Merlin a tall glass filled with ice, sparkling with a light gold liquid. Merlin takes a tentative sip.

“It’s delicious,” he says, surprised at himself, tongue fizzing with the fresh flavours. He takes another sip.

“Ginger root, elderflower extract, pear juice and natural sparkling water, straight from our springs. We bottle it for European restaurants.” Merlin feels a new energy buzz through him, invigorated by sensory pleasure for the first time in memory.

“Uncle Uther’s an amateur mixologist,” an amused voice chips in, and Merlin turns to see a woman so much like Snow White she could be the original inspiration. “Morgana,” she says, “Arthur’s long-suffering cousin. I live here with my boyfriend, Mordred.” She flicks a naughty glance behind Merlin. “Arthur’s third-wheeling was getting tiresome. Thank god for your arrival.”

“Harpy,” Arthur says good-naturedly. “Mordred’s a terrible board games companion, you’d be lost without me.”

“True. How would I _survive_ without Monopoly?”

“And where is dear Mordred?” Arthur asks pleasantly. “Scavenging in the woods again, is he?” Morgana throws him a dirty look.

“He didn’t fancy what was on offer for supper,” she remarks, eyes flickering ever so slightly in Merlin’s direction.

“Speaking of which, dinner is served,” Ygraine interrupts pointedly. “Pappardelle al Ragù Bianco di Cinghiale.”

“Fresh pasta with wild boar ragù,” Arthur translates. “It’s an authentic Tuscan recipe mum found when we lived in Italy.” Merlin panics as a plate is set in front of him, the rich smell and fleshy chunks of meat threatening to overpower him. He has no idea what the calorie content might be and his control is rapidly slipping, but then he looks up at Arthur’s shining, expectant face, and takes a mouthful. Warmth spreads through him, and he closes his eyes for a moment in pure pleasure. 

“I think this is possibly the best food I’ve ever tasted,” he admits. Ygraine and Uther laugh and Arthur nods at him approvingly, lifting his own fork. 

“I hear you like literature?” Uther asks, looking at Merlin with interest. “And apparently you’re an artist?” Merlin shakes his head vehemently.

“I paint a little. I like old buildings. Castles, mainly. But yes, I love reading.”

“Do you have a favourite writer?” Merlin takes a minute to consider.

“I’m really enjoying Paulo Coelho at the moment,” he says. “ _The Alchemist_ makes me feel like the universe can hear our dreams.” 

“The entire universe conspired to help me find you,” Arthur quotes nimbly, “There is only one thing that makes a dream impossible to achieve -”

“The fear of failure,” Merlin finishes, nodding. “I always think courage, however quiet, has power.” 

“A very wise sentiment,” Ygraine agrees, surreptitiously placing a hand on Arthur’s arm. Merlin’s distracted by the expression on Arthur’s face. He’d say it was _hunger_ ; raw, visceral hunger, if it weren’t for the food in front of him.

Merlin manages about half his meal before his body lets him down and he has to excuse himself and ask to be directed towards a bathroom.

“I’ll take you,”Arthur offers, leading Merlin down a dark corridor and into a beautiful room tiled with glittering emerald black granite slabs. There’s a gleaming hammered copper basin standing on a marble dais, and Merlin rushes for it, gasping as two strong hands grip his waist and pull him back against a solid chest. “Don’t,” Arthur says quietly, stroking Merlin’s hair. Merlin shakes his head, unable to speak given the bile threatening to spill out of his mouth at any moment. It isn’t a _choice_ , he thinks desperately. Arthur lifts his chin and Merlin looks into the icy blue eyes, swirling with some pearlescent, silvery substance. He feels immediately calmer. “You enjoyed your meal,” he states in an undertone.

“I did,” Merlin breathes, trying to release the tension trapped inside him.

“You’ll need your energy,” Arthur continues, “when we hike to the caves.”

“I know,” Merlin nods, feeling hypnotised by Arthur’s gaze, suddenly understanding that if he purges now he’ll feel weak, and won’t have the strength to enjoy his time with Arthur.

“You’re so beautiful, Merlin,” Arthur whispers, stroking a gentle finger down Merlin’s cheek. “Your soul is laced with magic. Don’t let your fear starve it.”

“It’s not fear,” Merlin disagrees. “I have - a problem. My body responds badly to food.” Arthur shakes his head.

“That’s a lie. Your body craves food, and you deny it what it needs because you fear losing control.” Merlin feels tears pool in his eyes and shudders when Arthur kisses them away. “I’ll be your control,” he murmurs against his ear, and Merlin is consumed by the urge to touch. “Later,” Arthur promises, as if hearing his thoughts.

It’s only when they get back to the table that Merlin realises his nausea has gone completely, as has his panic. Both seem to have been pushed from his body by a stronger feeling: desire.

*

It’s getting dark by the time they begin to trek through the forest towards the caves, inching their way around the lake. The light is a beautiful dusky pink topaz, the trees charcoal silhouettes against it. Merlin feels calm, holding Arthur’s hand, enjoying the feeling of _connection_ for the first time. They walk in companionable silence, Arthur’s presence enough to make Merlin’s heart rate soar. After forty minutes or so, they come to the dark mouth of the caves, and Arthur leads him inside, searching for a switch in the stone wall.

“We had electricity put in when we opened it to the public,” Arthur explains. “It’ll be too dark to go down otherwise.” Warm amber light floods the cave, and Merlin sees a crack in the stone towards the back of the cave to one side, behind a series of boulders. “The doorway underground,” Arthur grins. Merlin follows Arthur, squeezing through the rock face and down the narrow stony path. The lights flickering on the walls are like old smugglers’ lanterns, and Merlin thinks of pirates and buried treasure. After twenty minutes or so, the light changes, and Merlin gasps as they emerge into a cavernous hall beneath the mountain, glittering like the stars. Stalagmites and stalactites grow from ground and ceiling, a luminous, moist waxy white. Quartz crystals stud or emerge in chunks from the rock, glowing gold in the artificial light. An underground lake, green with algae, looks like a shimmering emerald crystal itself. It’s the most magical place Merlin has ever seen. Arthur walks him around the pool on the narrow treadway, moving deeper into the heart of the mountain. They exit the main chamber and walk along a wet rock corridor before Arthur turns left, winding his way further into a labyrinth Merlin knows he’d never be able to navigate alone. The thought of being lost down here makes him shiver.

“These areas are private,” Arthur explains, as the silence grows so loud Merlin can feel it pressing against his ear drums. “The cave we’re going to is mine.” The pathway opens up again, and Merlin finds himself in a chamber made entirely from clear quartz, a room carved out of crystal. A large four poster bed stands in the middle, ornate mahogany with frozen blue silk drapes and crisp white sheets. A crystal chandelier, glowing gold, hangs above a white grand piano. A white polar bear rug adorns the floor, and shelves are hewn into the walls, lined with ornately bound antique books. Arthur is quietly moving around the room, lighting candles, and Merlin is surprised at how warm it is down here, cocooned in the belly of the earth.

“I’ve never seen anywhere so wonderful in all my life,” he proclaims reverently, letting his fingers trail across the smooth milky stone as he reads Arthur’s book titles. Soft piano music fills the silent space. Merlin turns to look at Arthur, who’s watching him from the other side of the room. “Einaudi again?” Merlin asks.

“Experience,” Arthur nods. Merlin feels like his body is melting beneath Arthur’s scrutiny, shaking with something new and innate. He looks down, unable to stand the intensity of eye contact, and he hears Arthur moving, gasping as strong arms wrap around him. “It’s okay,” Arthur whispers, lifting Merlin’s chin and waiting for Merlin to lift his eyes before leaning down and pressing his lips against Merlin’s. Merlin’s mouth opens to him naturally and he exhales softly as Arthur licks his way in, gently stroking Merlin’s tongue with his own. Kissing is nothing like he imagined it would be. He’d always found the thought of it faintly appalling; the violating intimacy of having someone else’s tongue inside your mouth. But tasting the minty coldness of Arthur is addictive, feeling consumed by him, wrapped up in him, bodies pressed tightly together as Arthur moves his lips to Merlin’s jaw, his neck, lightly caressing Merlin’s skin with his lips and tongue. Merlin is drowning in Arthur.   
  
Somehow he’s lifted and carried to the bed, gently placed in its pillowy softness, pressed into the downy nest by Arthur’s reassuring weight above him. He’s barely lucid, intoxicated by the drugging effects of Arthur’s kisses, and hardly registers that he’s being slowly undressed, having his arms lifted above his head as sweater and t-shirt are pulled off, arching his back so that Arthur can peel off his trousers. It’s only when Arthur sits back to remove his own clothes, and cold air hits his skin, that Merlin comes to his senses. He scrambles away hurriedly, pulling a rug around himself, eyes widening when Arthur climbs back on to the bed naked. His eyes rove across Arthur’s sculpture-like body, his golden skin, defined muscles, huge, straight, glistening cock. He shudders with shame at his own pasty, thin body.

“Merlin?” Arthur asks quietly, crawling to sit in front of him.

“What are we doing?” Merlin asks, shocked at himself. “We barely know each other.” Arthur smiles, pulling Merlin to lie down next to him and rubbing his hands over the woollen rug wrapped around his narrow shoulders.

“Our souls have known each other for lifetimes. Can’t you feel it? The pull, between us?” Merlin can’t argue that he feels something powerful with Arthur. But he thought physical intimacy - sex - was something special you did after you’d been dating for a while, when you knew, and trusted each other.

“I feel like I know you,” he says slowly, trying to make sense of his thoughts. “But I also know that I don’t, not really.”

“We’ll get to know each other,” Arthur promises, stroking his face, slipping a hand beneath the rug to rub circles against Merlin’s belly. “I think you already know you can trust me. I’d never do anything to hurt you, Merlin.” Merlin nods, trusting his instincts that Arthur is safe. Arthur will look after him. Arthur carefully pushes the rug away and rolls above an exposed Merlin again. “Why should we wait to explore each other?” he asks, kissing Merlin’s neck, reclaiming his mouth. “Not when you want me so much,” he murmurs, pausing to make Merlin look at him. “Not when I want you so much too.” Merlin gasps as Arthur kisses his way down his body, biting his nipples and soothing them with the soft caress of his mouth.

“I’ve never done this before,” he mumbles, arching as Arthur rubs a hand over his crotch.

“I know,” Arthur says, slipping his fingers between the waistband of Merlin’s boxers and removing them slowly. Merlin lies trembling as Arthur examines his naked body. “I’ll be careful. I want you to enjoy this.” He strokes a hand over Merlin’s cock and swears as Merlin closes his eyes and arches again. “God you’re perfect,” he groans, pressing his naked body against Merlin’s.

“It’s too soon,” Merlin stutters, moaning as Arthur slides fingers beneath his cock, inching towards his most private of places.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Arthur says simply. Merlin can’t. His body seems to disagree with his brain. He’s frightened by what’s happening to him, he’s lost control of himself completely, surrendering to need and desire. Arthur smiles against his neck and produces a bottle of something from beneath his pillows, squeezing it onto his fingers. Merlin feels something slippery and cold slide between his butt cheeks, and moans as Arthur pushes a finger inside him. It feels strange, and it hurts, but his cock is hard and he wants something more, something he doesn’t know how to articulate. He lies quietly as Arthur opens his body, staring up at the canopy of the bed, hands on the smooth, warm skin of Arthur’s shoulders, mouth unconsciously seeking his for reassurance and comfort. He winces as Arthur removes three fingers, looking to Arthur’s face for guidance. “Roll over,” Arthur instructs him, and helps Merlin find a comfortable position on his belly, pillow beneath his groin, his bottom raised in the air. Arthur spreads his legs, lifting the knee of one and exposing his hole. He feels Arthur kneel behind him, the tip of his cock nudging his entrance. Arthur strokes his back.

“It’ll a sting a bit,” he says soothingly. “I’ll stop once I’m in.” Merlin grits his teeth as Arthur pushes inside him. His cock feels too big for Merlin to take, too long, too thick, too hard. It burns and he bites his arm to stop himself from crying out. Arthur’s moving slowly, gradually bringing his body down to cover Merlin’s, one arm placed by Merlin’s head, holding his weight, the other sliding beneath his body, slicked up hand grasping his cock. Merlin’s never felt so vulnerable in all his life, but he feels warm too, and full, which is something his body has craved. He kisses Arthur’s elbow nearest to his mouth and is rewarded with hot, teeth-grazing kisses across his shoulders and the back of his neck. He pants as a sudden thrust buries Arthur completely inside his body, feeling the soft hair of Arthur’s groin press against his arse. Arthur leans down to kiss him, breathing heavily.

“Okay?” he checks, nuzzling his forehead against Merlin’s. Merlin nods, and closes his eyes as Arthur begins to withdraw and push in again, moving in a wavelike rhythm against his back. Merlin realises he’s releasing soft noises every time he’s entered, body thrumming with building tension as some deep place inside him is touched over and over again, sparking pleasure along his spine, into his stomach. He allows himself to be taken, rolling in a haze of sensory bliss, unable to think, reduced to a raw bundle of nerves and feeling. He jerks as something sharp punctures the pulse point at the base of his throat, and shudders as his neck is sucked, Arthur’s mouth a hot brand on his skin. He can feel liquid being drawn from him, the steady pump of blood gushing as he’s slowly drunk from, the feeling of pain and pleasure much like being taken, and he cries, spasming as his body seizes in pleasure for the first time, relief spurting into the pillow beneath him, muscles trembling with the power of his orgasm. He feels Arthur’s groan as he too releases himself, filling Merlin with hot seed.

Arthur slides out and rolls them to the side so that he’s spooning Merlin, tipping Merlin’s head back to expose his neck so that he can drink from him better. Merlin lies half-conscious whilst Arthur feeds, sighing as Arthur strokes his sticky belly, his softened cock, his sore hole oozing with semen, rubbing his spend into Merlin’s thighs. Eventually Merlin feels Arthur withdrawing from his throat, licking the sore place. Merlin turns in Arthur’s arm to look at him. He’s flushed and eerily handsome, blood smearing the corners of his mouth, two sharp white teeth visible beneath his upper lip.

“What are you?” he asks quietly. Arthur rests his head on the pillow beside him, drawing a rug over them both.

“Cold ones, the legends call us.” Merlin nearly says _vampire_ , but doesn’t. It sounds too strange.

“How old are you?”

“Nearly one hundred. My family was sired at the end of the First World War.”

“And you seduce people to drink from them?”

“No,” Arthur shakes his head. “We feed from animals, mainly, or blood bags. With humans it can be hard to keep control. You never know if you’ll end up going too far and killing them.” Merlin frowns in confusion. “You’re different for me,” Arthur explains, wrapping his arms around Merlin. “Your smell is too enticing to resist. You’re the one I’ve been waiting for all this time. Like Morgana and Mordred, and mum and dad. We’ve always been destined. I trust myself to stay in control because otherwise I’d lose you. I won’t ever let that happen.” Merlin doesn’t feel scared. Lying wrapped in Arthur’s arms, feeding his lover, feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“It’s why I need you to eat,” Arthur says gently. “I need you to stay healthy and strong for me. No other blood will satisfy me now I’ve tasted yours.” Merlin nods.

“I’ll try,” he promises. He dozes against Arthur’s chest, listening to the music echoing in the room. “Is this where you sleep?” Arthur laughs.

“No, I have a bedroom at the house. This is just where I come when I need my own space. What we shared was private.”

“You brought me here to have sex with me,” Merlin clarifies.

“Yes,” Arthur nods, not trying to deny anything.

“Do you bring other people here?” Arthur smirks and pulls Merlin in for a kiss.

“Are you asking if I was a virgin too, Merlin?” he teases. Merlin flushes, looking down. Arthur laughs. “You’re jealous.” Merlin tries to move away, to untangle himself, but Arthur holds him closely. “Don’t,” he pleads, “I’m sorry.” Merlin looks up at him with wounded eyes. “Yes, I’ve slept with people before,” he admits, gently. “No, I’ve never brought anyone here. I’ve never been in love. I told you, I’ve been waiting for you. You’re special.” Merlin sighs, not particularly liking Arthur’s answer, but also knowing that the past is unchangeable. Energy spent regretting it is wasted.

“Sleep Merlin,” Arthur whispers softly, stroking his hair. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. I’ll take you home later.”

When Merlin wakes up he’s in his own bed, rain pattering at the windows again, fairy lights filling the room with a rosy yellow glow. It’s his dad on the stairs that’s disturbed him, coming up to check on him after getting home from a late shift at work. He closes his eyes as his dad quietly opens the door, sees his safely asleep, and closes it softly, creeping back downstairs. He rolls over to see his bedside clock - 22.23 - and starts when he sees the single blood-red rose placed by its side, and a rough chunk of quartz crystal. A piece of thick ivory card is wedged underneath. Arthur’s fluid handwriting is inked across it.

_I’ll be dreaming of you_. 


	4. Chapter 4

When Merlin wakes up again, his clock is blinking 06.12. He body is aching, his neck is sore, and he feels hungry for the first time in forever. Checking his neck in the mirror first - two tiny red puncture wounds, if you’re looking intimately closely - he pulls on thick socks and his dressing gown and heads downstairs to make breakfast. He scrambles two eggs, and has them with butter on toast. He stops counting the calories.

“Smells good,” his dad says appreciatively, switching on the coffee machine and pausing to ruffle Merlin’s hair. “Got an appetite this morning, have you?” Merlin nods with a mouth full of food, face flushing when he thinks back to what he did last night, having sex for the first time, writhing on a bed naked being fucked and sucked into oblivion. He wonders if his dad can tell something’s changed?

“Must be the fresh air,” Merlin mumbles. “I can make you some?”

“Thanks son, but I’ve got to get into work after some caffeine and a shower. There was an animal attack up the mountain last night. Two campers mauled to death. Call just came in.” Merlin looks up in horror.

“Bears?” he asks. His dad shrugs.

“Maybe. Could be a wolf, or a mountain lion. I’m going up with Billy to take a look. Lance’s dad?”

“Right,” Merlin nods.

“How was your evening with your new friend? Arthur, was it? Uther Pendragon’s son?” Merlin chokes on his toast as he feels phantom fingers sliding in and out of his arse.

“Good,” he wheezes, gulping some tea. “Their place is amazing.”

“Ay, I’ve seen it,” Balinor nods. “Seem like a nice family.”

“His mum made me Italian pasta,” Merlin agrees. Balinor’s eyebrows raise slightly.

“Well that’s good son. I’m pleased.” He pushes away from the counter and heads upstairs. “Have a good day at school. Gaius and Alice have invited us over for supper this evening.”

“Sounds good,” Merlin smiles. He waits for his father to leave before having a hot shower, examining his body in the mirror first. Aside from a slightly puffy red hole and the small neck wound, there’s no visible sign of what he’d shared - or given to - Arthur. He lets the hot water scorch him, burning away the feeling of Arthur’s fingers stroking his body. He rests his head against the wall as he feels heat pool in his belly at the memory, sliding down a hand to touch himself for the first time. He gasps as his cock hardens, groaning as he thinks of Arthur touching him instead.

“Can I help at all?” a voice says behind him, and Merlin jumps in horror, smacking his head against the tiles. Arthur is standing in the corner of the bathroom watching him, arms crossed as he casually lounges against the wall.

“How did you get in?” Merlin squawks, rubbing his head in pain.

“I can do a lot of things, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur responds smugly, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and peeling off his clothes. Merlin’s mouth waters in anticipation. He crowds into the shower, pressing Merlin against the wall, hot water cascading over them both. “I missed you,” Arthur murmurs, leaning down to claim a bruising kiss, fuelled with need and desire, totally unlike their more exploratory kisses the day before. He drops to his knees and takes Merlin into his mouth before Merlin has time to register what’s happening. He gasps and lets his head thud back against the tiles, threading his fingers through Arthur’s wet hair and widening his stance to accommodate Arthur’s position between his legs. Having his cock sucked and kissed is like nothing he’s ever experienced before. His mind is short-circuiting again, and he can’t help the soft undulation of his hips as he seeks more of Arthur’s mouth, rolling himself against Arthur. Arthur chuckles and pulls back.

“Turn around,” he says, and Merlin obeys without question, placing his palms and forehead against the cool wall. He shouts as Arthur’s tongue returns, this time licking around and _into_ his hole, sucking it, as Arthur’s clever fingers tug at his cock. He’s being loud, he knows, but he can’t help crying as he comes all over the tiles, tears streaming down his face along with the shower water. Arthur presses behind him and slides his cock in dry but for water, tilting Merlin’s head to the side as he leans down to drink. Merlin doesn’t know how long Arthur feeds, but he grows hard again, and begins to push back, fucking himself on Arthur’s cock until he can feel his sensitive spot being massaged. Arthur pulls off his neck and kisses it, resting his forehead against Merlin’s shoulder as he grips his hips and meets his thrusts, pumping into him hard and fast until they both come.

“I guess you skipped breakfast,” Merlin says weakly, smiling as Arthur laughs and nips his ear, gently washing his lover’s body. He turns around in Arthur’s arms, looping his own around Arthur’s neck and kissing him hungrily. “Can you come over when dad’s asleep later?” Arthur nods.

“I’ll never leave you alone when you need me,” he says seriously. Merlin feels happiness spread like heat throughout him, warm and content and _safe in Arthur’s control_.

Arthur drives him into school and kisses him goodbye at the gates, walking off to his own homeroom. Merlin heads in the opposite direction.

“What the fuck was that last night?” is the first question he’s asked by Will, pulling him down into the chair next to him. Merlin shrugs.

“Arthur and me have art together. He invited me to his place.” Freya squeals.

“Holy shit! Was it huge? Is in lined with diamonds and gold?” Merlin laughs.

“I just had dinner with his family and saw the caves, no big deal,” he explains.

“ _Riiight_ ,” Gwen says slowly. “Except for the fact that he’s been here a year and never spoken to any of us, and you’re here for two hours and he makes a beeline for you?”

“He’s just shy, I guess,” Merlin offers. “He’s used to spending time alone, like me.”

“Well you totally need to get us an invite to those caves,” Will huffs. “Seriously. I want golden pass tickets.” Merlin nods.

“Sure, I can ask him.”

Merlin’s skin begins to itch by the time the end-of-day bell rings, having not seen Arthur since this morning. He heads for milkshakes with Will and Lance, and orders his usual banana shake, mindful of the promise he made Arthur.

“Dad says it was weird,” Lance is saying, “throats ripped out but the rest of their bodies untouched.” Merlin tunes back into the conversation.

“Is this the hikers they found this morning?” he asks. Lance nods.

“Yeah, dad wants me home by six. Same for Gwen and Freya. Some animal is on the loose, not like anything they’ve seen before. It might come into town if it gets hungry.”

“It ripped our their _throats_?” Merlin repeats, blood running cold. Will nods.

“Weird, right? What kind of animal does that?”

*

Merlin heads home to do his homework and wait for his dad. He lights the stove and sits on the floor of their living room to study, so he can watch the local news on TV at the same time. It’s nearly seven by the time he hears his dad’s car on the drive.

“I heard about the hikers,” he says when his dad appears in the doorway. “Must have been horrible, I’m sorry.”

“Odd case,” his dad nods tiredly. “I don’t want you going out past daylight until we catch this thing, Merlin. It’s not safe.” He looks out into the forests, brow furrowed. “We might have to think about getting you a car for school runs too, now the nights are starting to draw in.” Merlin nods quietly. Balinor shakes himself. “Give me ten minutes to get changed and we’ll head out.”

Gaius and Alice live on the other side of town, in a stone cottage with a wraparound terrace offering a view of one of the smaller lakes. It’s warm and bright and smells like grilled cheese and apple pie.

“Merlin,” Alice says, hugging him warmly. “My how you’ve grown. Just a wee thing, last time I saw you.”

“It’s good to see you Auntie Alice,” Merlin smiles.

“We were going to light the fire pits outside, eat al fresco in the autumn weather, but after last night’s incident …” she glances towards Balinor and Gaius, deep in conversation. “Well. We’ll stay cosy inside, shall we?” Merlin helps to set the table and tries not to flinch as a melting meatball macaroni and garlic bread stick is taken out of the oven. Rich food so many nights in a row is challenging.

He sits quietly whilst they eat, trying to eat enough of the meat and pasta that he won’t be considered rude, but knowing he can’t stomach a full meal tonight. As his family discusses the attacks, Merlin’s mind drifts involuntarily to Arthur’s conversation with Morgana at supper yesterday. _Where’s Mordred? Scavenging in the woods again, is he?_ Arthur said his family didn’t feed from people - but strictly speaking, Mordred’s not part of his family. He shudders when he thinks of how many people like Arthur there might be, with less scrupulous principles. He wants to see Arthur.

They go through their main meal, then cheese and biscuits and grapes, then apple pie with cream for pudding. Merlin has some grapes, and a little of the sweetened cinnamon apple filling, trying not to overdo his progress. His heart is beginning to clench and his stomach to turn nastily, but he concentrates on answering his family’s questions, and finding out about Alice’s pottery business, until Balinor decides it’s time to leave at nine thirty. His dad suggests a movie when they get home, but Merlin guiltily claims exhaustion, and escapes to his bedroom as quickly as he can. As soon as he closes his door, Arthur is behind him, and Merlin allows himself to be wrapped in Arthur’s arms, trembling.

“Did you hear about the attacks?” he asks Arthur quietly, mindful of his dad two floors below. He can hear the TV going; his dad’s probably found an old gangster movie to watch. “The animal _ripped out their throats_.” Arthur glances at him, surprised.

“And you think that was me?” he asks, affronted. Merlin rolls his eyes and then slumps to the floor.

“How could I possibly know what you’re capable of?” he chokes out, tears filling his eyes. “I know what you are, and I trusted what you told me yesterday … but something fed from those hikers, and killed them afterwards, and bears and lions aren’t that _selective_ with their feeding points.” Arthur sits beside him.

“Dad went up and had a look at them earlier.” He sighs, looking at Merlin sadly. “It looks like it was a vampire, yes.” Merlin feels dizzy now that Arthur’s said the word out loud. He puts his head between his knees.

“Mordred?” he asks quietly. Arthur chuckles darkly.

“God, no, Mordred’s basically the vampire equivalent of a humanitarian vegan. Won’t touch any human blood at all. Won’t hunt. Won’t hurt. Definitely wouldn’t kill.”

“You’re not taking this seriously!” Merlin says accusingly. Arthur puts an arm around him, tucking Merlin closely into his body.

“Regrettably we’re not responsible for the actions of every vampire in the world,” Arthur says patiently. “If a human had come into the woods last night and killed those hikers with a gun instead, would _you_ feel accountable? Could you do anything? Being a member of the same species doesn’t predicate preventive - or punitive - involvement with species-related acts of violent crime.” Merlin curls against Arthur, pushing his head beneath Arthur’s chin in apology.

“We never had vampire attacks in Ives,” he says quietly. “Why did they choose here? Where you live?”

“They didn’t choose where we _live_. They chose a random, remote mountain forest, hidden from public sight, where their murders would go unwitnessed, much like a human killer might do. It’s only newsworthy here because so little happens. In big cities there are too many daily crimes and disappearances and killings to report every single one.”

“But there’s a legend about your land being cursed?” Merlin remembers. Arthur huffs in amusement.

“A story started by our ancestors to protect the land from inquisitive trekkers who might otherwise have been caught in one of our feeding hunts. Did it feel evil to you?” Merlin thinks of the calm lake, the pink sky, the glowing, warm caves, and shakes his head. He’s never felt safer.

“Who’ll stop them?”

“My father’s a member of the ancient council. If this isn’t a one-off attack they’ll send the order to come and investigate. One of the laws of our people is hiding ourselves from attention. We wouldn’t survive otherwise.” Merlin feels relieved that it won’t be his father hunting such a dangerous predator.

He brushes his teeth and undresses, crawling into his narrow single bed and into the naked warmth of Arthur, twisting so that his back is pressed against Arthur’s chest. He turns his head and accepts lazy kisses, basking in Arthur’s soothing presence.

“You’ll have to be very quiet tonight,” Arthur whispers, sliding oily fingers between his legs and massaging and probing gently. Merlin’s sore and over-sensitised from yesterday, but he wants Arthur like he needs air. Merlin nods, hiding his face in Arthur’s neck as he’s opened again, breath hitching slightly as Arthur pushes inside. The moment of being entered is just as overwhelming as it was the first time, the point of surrender to another person so intimately erotic that Merlin wonders how he could live without it now. Why do people need food when they can have sex instead? He keeps his lips pressed to Arthur’s throat as Arthur moves inside him, gasping silently as he’s stroked to completion. Arthur kisses his head and presses his palm to Merlin’s heart as he comes, filling Merlin with himself again. Merlin can hear his dad opening the fridge. Probably wants a beer.

“Is it always like this?” he murmurs softly, stretching his limbs where they’re caught between Arthur’s.

“What?” Arthur mumbles into his shoulder, licking his skin.

“Sex,” Merlin replies. Arthur shakes his head.

“Just with you,” he reassures Merlin.

Merlin wakes in the early hours of the morning wrapped in Arthur’s arms, with Arthur feeding from him. Arthur feels him shift and kisses the point that he’s drinking from, smiling as Merlin hardens beneath his palm. He slides back inside easily and pumps Merlin unhurriedly, both floating for hours on the peak of pleasure, not chasing completion. Merlin wants to pause this moment in time forever.

“What do I taste like?” he asks, as Arthur slides his thumb beneath Merlin’s foreskin, playing with the beads of pre-come, rubbing the moisture around the head and back down the shaft.

“Cinnamon,” Arthur pauses to respond, hungrily latching back on. Merlin feels his limbs getting heavier, his heart rate slowing, his body weakening.

“Stop now,” he whispers, knowing that Arthur has fed from him far longer than before. Arthur groans, twisting Merlin’s cock in his palm, and Merlin loses himself in the building pleasure, forgetting everything but the importance of release until he’s spilled over Arthur’s hand. Black spots flood his eyes and he slips in and out of unconsciousness, Arthur sucking harder as he comes too.

“Arthur, please, it’s time,” Merlin pleads under his breath, feeling himself fading again. “Don’t lose me.” Arthur growls and grips Merlin tightly as he withdraws, panting heavily against Merlin’s back, head pressed to his neck.

“Sorry,” he says, “you have no idea how hard it is to stop. You’re like my own personal brand of heroin.” Merlin is too tired to respond, so he simply links his fingers with Arthur’s. “It’s okay,” Arthur whispers. “You can sleep now. I’ll keep you safe.”

Merlin smiles. He hears _forever_.

*

_The End_


End file.
